


100 Clues

by RisemboolRanger



Series: I Know, You Know series [3]
Category: Death Note
Genre: Cameo, Crime, Crossover, Detective, F/M, Friendship, Mystery, Oneshot, Psych - Freeform, Romance, Side Story, clue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-25
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-09 12:11:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RisemboolRanger/pseuds/RisemboolRanger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot. Side story to "I Know, You Know". Gee's accepted that L will always be the better detective. But when she finds a case where she may be able to beat him for once, she proposes it as a challenge. Will she finally get the chance to be number one or will she forever be second fiddle? L/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	100 Clues

I didn’t think I’d ever been so excited for something in my entire life. One day. Just one day. One more day until I could bask in everything that was good and holy.

Triple figures. The big one hundred.

“Christ, Gee. Will you stop talking about that damn show for just two minutes?”

“But it’s been going for one hundred episodes!” I protested adamantly.

“Loads of shows reach a hundred episodes. It’s not that big a deal,” Johnny pointed out, looking at his phone rather than me. “Look, I’ve really gotta go anyway – your drivel’s gonna make me late for my big date.”

Charming. “Well, good luck then,” I said dryly as he headed for the stairs.

“Bitch, please. I don’t need luck.”

I just shook my head, listening to Johnny’s footsteps as he descended the stairs. What was he talking about? This was a _huge_ deal. Not only was it a big achievement and an important anniversary for my all-time favourite TV show, but they were doing a very extra special Clue themed episode to mark the occasion.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love the eighties? Let alone eighties movies. Let alone eighties _crime_ movies. This episode just had ‘made especially for Gee’ written all over it.

But of course, Johnny couldn’t see the brilliance of it. Man, I really needed a friend who liked Psych too.

The run-up to the big milestone was pretty spectacular. The official website for the show uploaded and announced new things during the week leading up to it and I admit that, technophobic as I was, I still checked the site every day. 

They announced guest star cameos – all from Clue itself, of course – and then a particular Twitter based event that had been organised for the big premiere. The show had come up with several hashtags pertaining to the episode, so that people could post their own live guesses and deductions as to who the culprit was. Like the original Clue, the episode had been filmed with a variety of endings, one of which would be chosen for the air date depending on the audience's choice.

I didn’t have a Twitter account and I certainly didn’t know what a hashtag was – I was guessing it was something more than just the symbol itself – but I signed up and made my own profile especially for the premiere. I got Johnny to educate me on the set-up a little and at least teach me what a hashtag was and how to use it. I really didn’t get these social networking sites.

But now that I knew what I was doing, I was even more psyched (pardon the pun) for the big day. This whole hashtag fandango was making it out to be an interactive challenge for everybody to get involved in. As a Psych fan, it was pretty exciting. And as a detective? Even more so.

I couldn’t help but think that there was somebody else who always liked a challenge. But would something like this really be his kind of thing?

Apparently, my subconscious didn’t care, because I was already reaching for the pager I now always kept in my bag. There was only a small guarantee that I’d even get an answer, but I could still hope. Personally, I felt that I could have already abused my knowledge of a certain pager number more than I actually had.

To my absolute amazement, my phone started ringing not long after, showing a withheld number on the display. I almost knocked it onto the floor as I scrambled to answer it. I had to remind myself at the last second to try and not sound too excited. “Hello?”

“What is it?”

Lovely. No friendly greetings or other formalities. Just straight down to business, as usual. But even so, I was still happy to hear the sound of the fellow detective who I’d grown probably a little too fond of over the last few years, monotonous or not. It had been a while since I’d last seen him. He’d never taken up any of my previous offers to work together, preferring to do things under his own decree. Pretentious vampire.

“Are you doing anything tomorrow?” I asked. If he could get right down to the point, then so could I.

“Working,” was the short reply.

“Oh... You’re on a case right now?” Damn. I realised I actually hadn’t been accounting for that. Why was it fair for him to get so many cases when I didn’t?

“No, I’m just always working,” said L.

Wow. He really was all work and no play. “Oh, okay then. Well, if you’re not doing anything _specific_ , I was wondering if you could, um... help me with something.” I made sure I worded it a particular way. I was certain that if I explained that I just wanted him to watch a TV show, he’d probably hang up on me.

“Is it important?” L asked, monotonous as ever.

“Well...” I started to say before swiftly and innocently changing my answer. “Yes. Yes, it is.” Well, it technically was depending on how you looked at it. Like if you looked at it from the angle that it was important to me anyway.

There was a slight pause before L answered. “Alright. I’ll meet with you tomorrow and you can explain more to me beforehand. Then I’ll decide if I’m actually going to help you or not.”

And with that he hung up. Normally, that particular habit irritated me, but I’d pretty much just gotten what I wanted. It didn’t surprise me that L only wanted to discuss details in person – any detective worth their salt knew not to share important information over the phone.

But that meant that L clearly thought that this was case related. That wasn’t surprising either, seeing as I’d kinda led him to think that way. Aw man, I was a bad person. I’d just tricked him into coming here, primarily for my own gain. 

It was kinda hard to dwell on that, however, knowing that I’d get to see him again. It really had been too long for my liking. Maybe it was time L stopped getting his way over everything. Yeah, I felt better if I thought about it that way. The power of positive thinking and all that.

Now all I’d have to worry about was making the ‘challenge’ sound good enough to make L want to actually hang around tomorrow. Otherwise, I probably wouldn’t put it past him finding a way to erase Watari’s number from my brain so that I couldn’t waste his time again.

Y’know, that or he’d just get a new pager and not tell me the number to that one. Though I was still kinda betting on the first option.

**XXX**

Because L had hung up on me so quickly yesterday, I hadn’t been able to specify a time or place to meet. Since he hadn’t done so either, I was guessing that the place would be my office. I just had to hope that the time would be anything early. If I had to wait to watch Psych’s one hundredth episode because of him, then maybe this whole thing wasn’t going to be worth it.

Luckily for my sanity, L arrived just past ten in the morning, so I didn’t have to wait too long. I’d purposely kept the front door to the office locked, even though I’d already been downstairs once, so that he’d _have_ to use the doorbell. Score one brownie point for me.

I raced down to unlock and let him in. “Hey!” I greeted breathlessly. “Thanks for turning up so early!”

L stood in the doorway in all his (slightly vampirish) glory. This was the guy who had unintentionally screwed with my mind from day one. Unreadable expression, blank eyes, flat tone of voice... Today was no different, of course. Robot boy was still his usual self.

And really only in it for the business. “So what did you want help with?” he asked, the moment he’d followed me inside.

Only then did it actually hit me what a ridiculous idea this whole thing was. Why was I bothering? L wasn’t going to want to sit and watch a television show with me. In fact, I was likely to actually get some damn emotion out of him for once, since he’d probably be annoyed that I’d abused my power and brought him here for nothing.

Not to mention that on top of all that, L had already said before that he didn’t like fictional detectives. He didn’t even like Sherlock Holmes, for crying out loud. Well done, Gee. What a stupid time to realise this.

“I, um, had an idea for a little challenge,” I improvised brightly.

I swear L actually raised his eyebrows. Up until now, I hadn’t been aware that he had any movement in them. “So you don’t actually need help with anything?”

“No. Not really...” I said, feeling sheepish.

“Then why did you say that you did?”

“I... didn’t think you’d come otherwise,” I replied hesitantly.

I almost caught the barest hint of surprise in L’s usually empty eyes. “Why did you want me to come here?”

Because I like being around you and had just been looking for any excuse to see you again? Because it had been ages and I’d simply missed you? So that I could just sit and watch you because you’ve fascinated me since the first time I met you?

Yeah. Probably all things better left unsaid.

“I actually wanted you to watch something with me.” Urgh, it sounded even more pathetic out loud. Seriously, why hadn’t I stopped myself before I’d organised this whole stupid thing?

“You want me to watch something with you?” L repeated sceptically.

“Well... It’s a detective show and it’s my _favourite_ show and I know you don’t like detective fiction, but I think you should still give it a chance. It’s their one hundredth episode and they’ve set it up like Clue and everyone can try and guess who the culprit is. And everyone’s doing it online. And I just thought it would be fun if we both did it and saw who could guess the culprit first...”

Oh, great, I’d just started babbling like a five-year-old. Not to mention that was the worst explanation anyone had ever given of anything, ever. Also I’d said ‘and’ way too many times. What an idiot.

My babbling clearly hadn’t helped the sceptical look on L’s face. “You do realise how predictable crime fiction is,” he pointed out, making it more of a statement than a question. “It’s manufactured so that the audience are potentially able to put the clues together themselves. Therefore, I doubt that this will pose much of a challenge.”

“It’s different with Psych,” I argued stubbornly. “Every episode’s unpredictable. They have red herrings and dead ends all the time. I probably only guess the real culprit about eighty percent of the time.”

If anything could sway L, then that was it. That was about twenty episodes that had thwarted me. And I was a real detective, unlike the majority of Psych’s audience. That showed how good the show was at throwing you off track. Granted, most of those had been during the earlier seasons before I’d figured out Psych’s familiar patterns. Which was also the advantage I had that I hoped would help me to beat L for once.

“Is that Psych as in the Psych you have on your cell phone cover?” asked L.

“Err, yeah,” I said, feeling confused. What did that have to do with anything? Well, I guess at least he’d noticed it after all this time. Though he lost points for never having commented on how awesome it was.

“Alright then.”

“...Alright then, what?” I asked, hardly daring to believe my ears.

“I accept the challenge,” said L plainly.

Wait, _what_? He was actually agreeing to it? Where had that just come from? Did my idiotic babbling actually work on him? Or was it somehow due to the awesomeness of my iPhone cover? More importantly, had I just gotten exactly what I’d wanted?

“Huh?” was my highly unintelligent response.

“You did say it would be a challenge, did you not?” L pointed out. “I just hope that it doesn’t disappoint after that claim.”

Eep. So now it was a challenge to make it a challenge? Stop it, Gee, I told myself. You’ve got what you wanted. Just focus on that. Stop confusing yourself even more.

“Err, right,” I said, still not sounding very intelligent. “Come on then. Let’s go do this.”

I tried to stop myself feeling so dazed as L followed me upstairs. I made myself concentrate on setting up my laptop and the episode stream instead. That was the only annoying thing – with the difference in time zones between Japan and America, I had to stream new episodes online the following day.

Oh, yeah. Pirating’s bad, kids. Don’t try this at home and all that. Unless it’s for Psych. In which case, I can understandably turn a blind eye.

I managed to get everything set up and ready. We were good to go. L had declined my offer of a drink and I definitely didn’t need one of my usual energy drinks right now – I was already too het up as it was. I wasn’t sure what I was more excited about... The hundredth episode special or the fact that I was actually watching my all-time favourite TV show with L. Both were pretty big achievements. I guessed they were on par. 

“So, err... Are you ready?” I asked L, once I’d set the laptop up. Oh, great, now I sounded like I was treating it like a race.

“The first one to guess the correct culprit wins, am I right?” L reiterated. Okay, maybe it was a race then when you put it like that.

“Right.”

If I’d suggested anything of the sort to Johnny, then his next question would have been ‘what do I get if I win?’ I knew with L, it wouldn’t be the same case. If there was one aspect in which we were actually similar, then it was this – just the act of winning a challenge was enough of a reward.

“Is there anything I need to know beforehand?” L asked. “Any background information on the characters?”

There was actually a very big thing you kinda needed to know about the show. But I had a feeling that if I explained it now, then L would just up and leave. Sooo... “Nope. Not really,” I lied.

“Alright then. Let’s begin.”

I started the episode, feeling a sudden pang of excitement. As soon as it started, I realised which I’d actually been more excited for. Screw L, I’d been _dying_ for this episode.

Straightaway, it was easy to tell how Clue based it was – from the premise of the episode down to all the little details. God, I loved this show. The main characters, Shawn and Gus, were invited to a secret party at the house of a mystery host. Of course, the house was huge and creepy as hell and there was a storm raging outside on the night of the party.

The doorbell to the creepy house was shaped like a pineapple. That was another thing about Psych – there was a pineapple in every episode that you had to try and spot. Some were hilariously obvious, like this one, and others were more of a challenge. This was one challenge that I’d always won at. Can you say delicious flavour?

I had to say I did appreciate the doorbell. Maybe if I had one shaped like a pineapple too, then a certain someone might actually _use_ it.

A distinguished black man opened the door. He was clearly a butler. “The butler did it!” I said automatically. Come on, who could resist such a cliché?

L, clearly. He didn’t seem to get it. “He just answered the door – what evidence could you possibly have for that theory?”

“Let’s just call it a hunch.”

The butler asked for the characters’ cell phones, since their host wouldn’t want anything from the night to end up being posted on the ‘interweb’. Hmm, now who did that remind me of? I managed to refrain from pointing that out. Make that two brownie points for me.

“I take it he’s the detective,” L concluded fairly quickly, after Shawn had noticed a strange piece of material in the stairwell that nobody else had.

“That’s right,” I confirmed.

I half hoped he’d say more about the character, but that was the only thing he voiced aloud. That made me a little annoyed. Shawn Spencer was the greatest character on television _and_ my favourite fictional character of all time. There was a _lot_ more to be said about him.

The other party guests were then introduced. A single mother with a stutter who was apparently an ex groupie, a rather intense looking writer - played by the wonderful Christopher Lloyd, I might add - and an alcoholic band manager. The select group revealed the host to be rock star Billy Lips, who had been imprisoned for five years for the alleged murder of another groupie called Melinda Lane.

There was also an empty chair that was supposedly for Billy’s band mate Rip, who they claimed wouldn’t have turned up anyway, since he had an ongoing feud with the drunken manager. Billy claimed that his time in prison had been a big turning point in his life and that they’d all been invited in celebration, though he still sounded quite bitter about it. Hmm... Was that really relevant or just one of Psych’s many red herrings?

Of course, that was then the point when there was a power cut and the band manager was found dead in his meal as soon as the lights came back on. They figured out that the culprit was Rip – the supposedly absent band mate – but the phone lines were out and when they went to fetch the cell phones that the butler had shut away, they were conveniently gone.

“See, the butler clearly had the best access to the phones,” I pointed out. Unless I spotted anything more obvious, then I was sticking with the butler theory. It would be glorious if it was true.

“That isn’t really too significant,” L disagreed. “They all saw where he put them – anyone could have gotten to them.”

It may have only been a TV show and L may not have liked fictional detectives, but it certainly seemed like he was participating to me. This was even better than I could have imagined. I was still feeling smug that my plan had actually worked.

The characters split up and searched the house for Rip. The main cop characters then turned up – their missing persons case having led them to the same address. They were then told about the dead manager, but when they went to find him, the body was gone, presumably having been moved by Rip.

“Nobody seems to have considered the possibility that the manager wasn’t actually dead,” said L.

I had to agree with him on that one. “Yeah, I know the groupie said that she used to be a nurse, but the fact that she added that she was fired doesn’t give her much credibility. She could have been terrible at her job – maybe she just couldn’t find Highway Harry’s pulse.”

“Or maybe she was fired for something else entirely and her and the manager are working together.”

Hmm... Definitely a valid theory. But I didn’t want it to be right if it meant that L had beat me to it. I knew it was selfish, but if he could beat me even when it came to Psych, then I was a terrible fan girl and the worst detective ever.

The search for Rip was short lived, as he was soon found dead in the walk-in freezer. The cops confirmed him to be Albert Semento – their missing person. Apparently, none of his colleagues had been aware of his real name. That also sounded remarkably like someone I knew.

All of the guests were then interrogated separately. Even Shawn and Gus, though that was more due to Detective Lassiter’s resentment for them. The groupie appeared quite shifty under questioning and the writer seemed terrified at the very idea of prison.

“I don’t think it’s the writer,” L decided. Wow, he’d been offering more input than I had so far. Somebody was clearly getting into this.

Again, I agreed with him. “Yeah, I don’t either. He’d have absolutely no motive for either of the murders.”

“If the manager’s even dead,” L reminded me.

He seemed quite certain on that part. It made sense though – there was clearly some reason why they’d included the information that the groupie had been fired from her job as a nurse. But then L’s next suggestion made me question his sanity altogether.

“Do you think maybe it could have been the detective or his partner?” he mused aloud.

“What? _No_! They’re the good guys!” I protested, horrified that he could even think that.

“It’s not exactly an uncommon idea in fiction for the good guys to become the villains,” L explained. “Plus they avoided all of the questions in the interrogation and simply talked about liquorice instead.”

“Um, yeah, that’s just what they do all the time. It wasn’t an aversion tactic,” I replied. I was still outraged by the very idea.

I felt a bit better, however, when my theory was strengthened even more. Billy had written a new song and had just started performing it in his ‘magic spot’ in the living room – the place where he always stood to sing, because it had the best acoustics in the house – when the chandelier above him fell and nearly crushed him. Luckily, Shawn had realised and managed to tackle him out of the way in time.

“Of all people, the butler would definitely know about his magic singing spot and exactly where he’d stand,” I pointed out. “He could have easily loosened the fittings on the chandelier.”

L still wasn’t sure on that. “That doesn’t mean that nobody else would have known the same thing.”

I’d started to argue back, but was then effectively distracted by the appearance of the next guest star. “ _Curt Smith_!”

L clearly wasn’t as excited about that. “Am I supposed to know who that is?”

I had to remind myself that most people my age weren’t familiar with a lot of eighties music legends. “He’s from Tears For Fears.”

L just looked at me blankly. “Am I supposed to know what that is too?”

“Oh, come on, you _have_ to have at least heard of Tears For Fears...”

“I can assure you I haven’t. Is it another television show?”

“What? Are you serious? They’re a _band_!”

Luckily, the show distracted me from getting too worked up about it. In particular, the revelation that Curt Smith had been shot by someone wielding a gun and an ice pick, and had then been mauled by a rogue panther that Billy kept as a supposed pet. Awesome, huh? Now that was just Psych all over.

And even though his expression was as impassive as ever, I was sure that L was internally delighted by the next part when Highway Harry suddenly strolled in, alive and well. He’d apparently woken up to an empty room and gone in search of the others, then had found Billy’s secret chocolate room and that had been that.

I was quite glad that L wasn’t the type to say ‘I told you so’. I guessed it wasn’t surprising that the world’s greatest detective would be right about at least part of this. I was just hoping that he wouldn’t be right about the rest. I wanted to win, dammit. As a long-time fan, I had the advantage here. This was the only hope I ever had of beating him.

But then the cops started musing over the idea of there being multiple killers. Nooo, now even my favourite characters were conspiring against me. Why did L always have to be right? Couldn’t I just have this one victory?

Thankfully, I could count on Shawn to get things back on my side. He started running around and going off on a tangent about how Rip had killed Melinda Lane and Billy had remembered this during his psychotherapy, then proceeded to killing Rip in a fit of rage. The theory was immediately struck down by the butler, who insisted that Rip had been in the room next to him, snoring his head off throughout the night of Melinda Lane’s murder.

The idea of there being multiple killers was then effectively disbanded. Ha, I thought to myself childishly. The game was still afoot (pun most definitely intended).

L didn’t appear to be particularly bothered by his idea being shot down. In fact, he seemed more interested in something else entirely. “What exactly was he doing?”

“Huh?”

“The detective.”

I realised then that he was referring to Shawn running around like a lunatic and attempting to act out the murder theory. Nothing out of the ordinary for his character, but of course, L didn’t know that, since I’d conveniently ‘forgotten’ to mention that important tid-bit before we’d started watching.

“Oh, err... he pretends to be psychic,” I said, hoping it would sound off-hand. It didn’t.

“He pretends to be psychic...” L repeated slowly. I had a feeling I knew what he was thinking. I knew how ridiculous it sounded out loud.

I wasn’t going to admit it though. “Sorry, I must have forgotten to mention that,” I said innocently.

Luckily, at that point, Shawn brought everything home for me when he announced that he was going to reveal the real culprit. And he was pointing all of his fingers at the butler. Oh, get _in_...

He explained that the butler was fed up of how the band had gotten their songs from the little tunes that he used to whistle around the house and that the only thanks he’d ever gotten for it was a measly watch. I’d spotted the watch earlier on, but hadn’t actually clocked about the whistling. Damn, my observations still weren’t perfect even now.

Shawn then described how it was _Rip_ who had started to remember the truth about Melinda Lane’s death during his psychotherapy, so the butler had killed him to protect his dark secret. He’d then tried to do the same to Billy by tampering with the chandelier above his usual singing spot, and he was also the one who’d shot Curt Smith when he’d gone outside to dispose of the ice pick used to kill Rip.

I was on the edge of my seat waiting for them to confirm it. I was used to Psych ploughing through several different theories before getting to the right one. But I needed this to be it. And it was.

“Yes!” I couldn’t help but exclaim happily. I wasn’t quite as reserved as L after all. “I knew it!”

We watched through the remainder of the episode with me sitting there as pleased as a peach. I knew I’d have the upper hand when it came to Psych. It may have only been a small victory and I knew it didn’t really count towards anything, but it genuinely did mean something to me. I felt a little less like the more useless one out of the two of us.

“It looks like you won,” said L, once it had finished. “Congratulations.”

He didn’t seem exactly happy for me, but I don’t think he begrudged me my victory either. This was probably all just child’s play to him. But I didn’t mind – it had still made me happy. The hundredth episode really had been a big deal for me. And putting the challenge aside, I couldn’t think of anyone better to have shared the experience with.

“Thanks,” I grinned. “I know it was only fictional, but I’ve gotta admit I’m still quite pleased I was able to beat you for once.”

I swear he almost smiled. “Even though you sort of cheated.”

“How did I sort of cheat?” I protested.

“You had more information to begin with and you withheld it from your competition,” L pointed out.

“That was not relevant and you know it,” I insisted.

“So why didn’t you say at the beginning?”

I hesitated before admitting, “I know the premise of it sounds a bit ridiculous, so I thought you might not have wanted to watch it if you’d known that part.”

“I’d already agreed to it,” said L simply. “I wouldn’t have changed my mind so easily.”

Huh. Guess it didn’t really surprise me that he was a ‘man of his word’ type. “So... did you like it?”

“It was... tolerable,” L replied. I couldn’t help but laugh at that. He seemed surprised. “You’re not offended by that? I thought you said it was your favourite show.”

“It is. But I’m not going to be offended just because someone else doesn’t like it that much,” I explained. “How boring would it be if we all liked the same things?”

I saw that ghost of a smile again. “I suppose you’re right. I’m curious though... You knew the moment the butler appeared on screen that he was the culprit. Were you really just basing your hunch on a cliché?”

“Yeah, that was pretty much it,” I admitted. “I think that’s more from me knowing the show so much. It’s the kind of thing I’d expect them to do. They love working in the clichés.”

It was true. It came from being a die-hard fan that I’d known that was the route the episode would take. The writers usually took any cliché they could play on. So I’d known that if anyone could pull off ‘the butler did it’, it was Psych. And sure enough, that was damn well what they’d done. Go me.

“I see,” said L. “So you did still cheat in a way, seeing as you had an unfair advantage.”

“That is _not_ cheating,” I objected, even though I knew he didn’t really mean it. A good detective didn’t use excuses like that. He clearly had a sense of humour after all. “Don’t be mean and take away my little victory.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s that important to you...”

“Now you’re getting it,” I grinned. “So was it at least a fun challenge? That was kind of all I was hoping for.”

“It was better than I expected,” admitted L. “You did beat me on it after all.”

I probably wouldn’t get a better opinion than that. But that one was fine with me. I smiled. “Then I’m glad. Though to be honest, I wasn’t sure if you’d even go for it in the first place.”

“I probably wouldn’t have,” agreed L. “But then I was already here and you seemed so enthusiastic about the idea. I felt it would have been rude to say no.”

I honestly couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “Did I really seem _that_ enthusiastic?”

“Did you not hear yourself rambling?”

Oh, great, so my stupid babbling had made me sound like a five-year-old. Well done, Gee. He’d taken your little challenge out of pity, nothing else. “Yeah, but I’d kinda been hoping that it only sounded that bad in my head.”

Strangely, L didn’t seem to think that was a bad thing. “It’s good that you can be so passionate about something.”

Now that I hadn’t expected to hear. Not from him anyway. “Err, really?”

Being passionate about something was possibly the thing I valued most in a person. I felt it gave you strength and character, even if it was over something simple like a TV show or a band. How strange that L, of all people, would feel the same.

“That’s the main reason that I agreed to it,” said L. “Especially when you said the name of the show. I remembered how much you’d always seemed to like it – you’ve certainly mentioned it enough times before.”

I felt a little embarrassed at that. Did that mean he’d agreed to the whole thing... just to keep me happy? Or was I reading into it a bit too much now?

“Um, thanks then?” I said uncertainly.

“That’s alright,” said L indifferently. “As long as you don’t try to make me read any Sherlock Holmes next.”

“Hey, hey, I don’t think I can tolerate you saying bad things about ol’ Sherlock,” I said teasingly.

“Well, if it helps, I prefer that Shawn character,” added L. “He’s much more quirky.”

I think I nearly had an embolism on the spot. That was quite possibly the best thing he could have ever said. “In that case, I’ll let you off.”


End file.
